


A Slave of Him

by phoenixjustice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixjustice/pseuds/phoenixjustice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mid-S4, directly in the middle of the ep "It's A Terrible Life"</p><p>They started out with their memories forgotten, then comes along a little ghost, and some angels and memories return. That might have been the end of it. If they hadn't slept together first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's A Terrible Life

~*~

"Come on, Dean."

"For the last time, dude, it's no."

Sam lets out a breath of frustration. "I know you are just as curious as I am about this ghost, if not more."

"And what part of _no_ do you not get? God _damn_ but you're stubborn."

Sam sets his shoulders. "Maybe I am. But you are also in some serious denial. You know what you saw, as well as I do. It was a ghost. You can't shut your eyes to the truth to this."

Dean whips around to turn to him, having been looking away the last couple of minutes, coming around in desk to stand in front of the taller man. He jabs him hard in the chest with a finger.

"And why the hell not? It's none of my damned business. You can do whatever the hell you want, but keep me _out_ of it." He loses some of his heat, backing off a bit, voice laced with weariness. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

Sam stays firm. He _knew_ he was right about this. Just like he was right about Dean. There was just something about the man. Familiar yes, but something else as well. He sensed a strength from the man, a curiousness, and a fire that was barely being held in check. He just had to stay firm. He knew, though he wasn't sure just _how_ he knew, that if he kept at it, that Dean would finally cave.

"And if you really didn't want to go after this ghost, then why didn't you just kick my ass outside? I've been standing here for minutes, Dean," Sam pointed out. "And you haven't done a damned thing, except some words."

Dean clenches his jaw, glancing away from him again. His heart beats a little faster in his chest as he looks at the man's face, eyes traveling from his jawline, past the sun-soaked skin to his slightly parted lips. He glances away quickly, heart thumping, wondering just why he felt like he was the proverbial Adam looking at the Forbidden Fruit. And Dean was a guy. That just wasn't...there wasn't anything wrong with that, but he wasn't...

"I'll go." Dean suddenly says through clenched teeth.

The statement causes Sam to look back at the man. He grins, not noticing the startled look in Dean's eyes as he does so, eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Then let's get to it."

~*~

After all that excitement, the fact that they had to go and sit at a desk and stare at a computer, was a bit of a downer, but he had found (well okay, _Sam_ had found) a website which could help them to combat the ghost. He snorts. Combat the ghost. Jesus...

The fact that what they were doing felt _right_ , well, Sam didn't have to know that.

"So this website has what we need?" Dean asks Sam, glancing up at him from where he sat. Damn freakishly tall dude. He aggressively ignored the thing called his eyes, which helpfully pointed out the obvious sculpted muscle on the man. He was damned if he would listen to crazy talk. He didn't like men. And...and there was nothing to discuss because he didn't see anything!

"Yeah. These are real live Ghost Hunters. The actual real deal. They can tell us what we need to fight this thing."

"And if they're so great, couldn't we just call them and be done with it?" He suggests, waving a hand around. "Let them work their magic?"

"Well for one thing, if we somehow _did_ manage to get ahold of them and they agreed to come, by the time they came, there could be a _dozen_ more killings, if not more."

"Yeah..."

"And..." Sam glances at Dean. "I know you want to kick this things ass, Dean. So why not just say you do?"

 _Cause then I'd have to admit you were right. And you'd smirk at me and lord it over me for days...wait._ Thought Dean. _Why the hell would I think something like that? I mean, I barely know him_...

"Whatever." grunts Dean.

Sam merely shakes his head, fighting a smile as the Ghostfacers program pops up.

"Hello! Ghostfacers here. And this is "What to do if you have a ghost problem--"

~*~

"Well," Sam says, stepping back from the desk. "At least we know why the wrench worked."

"Yeah," said Dean, stretching his arms above his head. "Though that bit you did with the door was still pretty sweet."

"Thanks. And did you notice that they _really_ hate the Winchesters?"

Sam tries to pretend he doesn't notice the muscles underneath Dean's shirt contract as the man finishes stretching.

"Yep," replied Dean, walking over to his fridge. "And I have this strange urge to lay the smackdown on them. Maybe it's their ugly mugs."

Sam shrugs, having to turn away now as Dean leans down, opening the fridge. He needed to get his shit together and fast. He was having illicit thoughts about a guy he barely knew, and a man at that! It must have been all of his dreams. They were messing up his head in a big way. It just screamed _of_ wrong, as if it was something to be fought and tried to forget about--no matter how much you may have wanted it--yet at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to push the now standing Dean, up against the refrigerator and--

"So, dude. I have tea--good cleanser--and uh, more tea. I also have wat--"

Sam snaps. He stalks over to where Dean turns to look at him, his eyes widening. He pushes Dean up against the refridgerator, containers of tea falling to the ground and quickly forgotten about.

"What the hell do you think you're doi--"

He leans in, grabbing onto Dean's shirt and kisses him hungrily. It felt like both a homecoming and a damnation. He feels the man stiffen up for a moment, the point in time feeling like an eternity, before, finally, he feels Dean's hands wrap his around his waist, pulling him close, kissing him back deeply, eyes closed hard. They stood that way for who knew how long, every problem and worry melted away, cliched as that might have sounded, but it was true. It felt like a impossible dream was coming to life, something which you always dream about, but it never comes to fruition; the dream being bigger than you could accomidate.

They both pull back in mutual need of oxygen and his groin pulses hard at the sight of Dean, panting slightly, face flushed and lips slightly parted before he licks them.

"Sammy--"

He was helpless at the sound of that voice. As he always was--

~*~

It was a bit awkward, the dance to the bedroom, clothes getting thrown here and there as they get there, barely pausing long enough in their kissing to get anything actually off. He hadn't done anything like this with a man before. He didn't think Sam had either. He knew mechanics well enough with a girl, that was like riding a bicycle, but this was...he didn't want to mess anything up. It...it felt important.

They finally make it to the bed itself, with Dean kicking off a last shoe, hungrily kissing Sam again, unable to get enough of just kissing him, feeling as if he had waited forever to do this and never could.

"Dean." The breathless sound of Sam's voice alone was enough to make him completely hard.

He pushes the taller man to the bed and takes the time to gaze up and down his body, frowning slightly as he notices a few faint scars on the man, some barely noticible, some notible, such as one that wrapped around one hip, hardly able to be seen and one down across his stomach.

"What are you looking at?" asked Sam quietly, as if afraid to break the mood.

Dean traces a hand around the scar on Sam's hip, making him shiver. "Just looking at your collection of scars." He leans up to kiss Sam again.

"But I don't have any--" He starts, before getting cut off by Dean's invading mouth.

Dean pushes apart Sam's legs, leaning in, letting out a shivering breath as his cock rubs up against Sam's stomach.

"I've never--" started Dean.

"Neither have I," said Sam a little breathlessly, rubbing himself up against Dean, causing both of them to moan. "But we'll figure something out."

~*~

It was times like these that Dean was glad for the lotion he always kept on his nightstand--what? Waking up with dry skin is a bitch! Not like he had any experience with this kind of thing, but nevertheless, he was grateful.

He squirts a bit onto his hands, looking away from Sam, sure that the man was laughing at him and his inexperience--goddamn but he felt like a teenager fumbling with a bra for the first time. He leans back over to a patient looking Sam and if not for the tiny bit of nervousness that Dean could see in the man's eyes, Sam looked the epitome of calm, relaxed posture and everything as he looked up at Dean.

He decided to forgo whatever he was about to say--sure he was about to put his foot in his mouth--and slides one finger into the man below him, watching as Sam's body tenses. He grimaces slightly at the feeling of the lotion and the pressure as he moves it slowly inside.

"What's wrong now?"

"It's a bit weird, alright," snapped Dean.

"Yeah?" Sam snapped back. "Well you're not the one with a finger in your--"

He shuts up as Dean slides another finger inside.

"Shut up and let me fuck you."

~*~

He holds back a groan as he continues to thrust inside. It was a bit weird at first, and it felt a bit strange, but soon it felt so damned _incredible_ that he would not have stopped for anything. He holds tightly onto Sam's sides, looking down at the man underneath him. Sam had his eyes closed tightly, biting slightly on his lower lip.

"Sam..."

Sam's eyes open and look up at him. The intensity in them was so intense that he cries out, coming almost seconds later. Sam soon follows, crying out Dean's name, a splash of white hitting their stomachs.

He pulls out, landing on top of Sam with a thump. He looks at Sam, starting to speak--

_I love you so damned much, Sammy._

\--and stops himself. That thought...felt like it had come from someone else.

~*~

He looks back to the direction he had been thrown from and sees Sam there, standing tall and who nods at him. Looks like the job got done. He stands and dusts himself off.

"That was fucking _amazing_ ," gushed Sam, grinning at Dean.

Dean couldn't help but grin back. He didn't mind. It was a smile worthy celebration."Yeah, yeah it was."

And he also didn't mind that Sam leaned in and kissed him once. Or five times.

But whose counting right?

~*~

His eyes widen as the memories come flooding back, staggering back slightly.

And with the remembrance of memories, too came back the feelings that came with them. And with his memories intact, it only made his _recent_ memories stand out all the more.

Flashes of skin against skin, deep moans and their names said almost worshipfully on each other's lips.

"Oh god," he whispers. "Oh _fuck_."

~*~

 

A/N:OH.MY.GOD. That episode was...dear god it was so incredibly awesome, words can't even BEGIN to describe how great. From the very beginning...to get such a plot point we fangirls can use! And the preview for the NEXT ep! I mean the boys knowing about BOOKS written about them? We couldn't get anymore fanservice unless we suddenly saw Dean getting it on with Sam, or getting it on with Castiel. I mean, holy CRAP.

Man, I LOVE when inspiration comes like that...*sigh*

I don't know how long this will be or anything, but we'll see.

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!!

\--PhoenixJustice

 


	2. The Road To Hell is Paved With Good Intentions

~*~ ~*~

He glares murder at the angel standing in front of him. "You stupid fuck, why didn't you think about that? About what could happen?!"

Zachariah looked the epitome of calm as he stood there in front of Dean, hands crossed and placed up against his stomach. He smiles blandly. "Is something the matter?"

"Stop with the fucking act," Dean roared, supremely pissed off. It was all directed at the angel, but a lot of it was for himself. Anger mixed with shame and many other emotions that he refused to acknowledge. "You had to have--done something." His voice ends in a shameful whisper, glancing away from the man.

"It's no act and I didn't do anything. And you know it," said Zachariah flatly. "I only took away your memories. What you chose to do, you did with your own free will. Our Lord God gave you free will. That is something that we angels cannot take away--except in the rarest and most dire of circumstances, and with a price at that."

He stands up straighter and Dean could feel his gaze burning into him, knowing he was, even though he himself was not looking at him.

"So what is your issue? Ashamed are you?" The angel's tone took on a hint of amusement. "Because of what happened with your--"

"That is _enough,_ Zachariah."

Dean _does_ look back this time, head jerking up at the sound of the familiar voice. Castiel stood, clad as always in overcoat and frowning faintly. Zachariah turns as well at the sound of the voice.

"Ah, hello Castiel," said Zachariah. "I do not see what the issue is. I was merely speaking a fact."

"And the _fact_ of the matter is, you need to shut your damned mouth," growled Dean, anger once again rising at the stupid little tone the man took. "Angel or not, I could give a rat's ass, but you say _one_ more word about any of that--"

Zachariah merely waves a hand. "No offence. Just a reminder, of sorts." He turns to Castiel. "It was good to see you again, Castiel. I was sorry to hear about your recent run-ins. The fact that even _Uriel_ succumbed to this madness, well, I couldn't believe it. If you wish to have another in your journey...?"

Castiel shakes his head. "No, it's...fine. I will be fine. Send the others my regards when you see them."

Zachariah nods, but frowns. "Well at the rate things are going, you might see them soon enough to tell them yourself." He nods at Dean. And disappears.

~*~ ~*~

Sam lets out a breath, relief coursing through his veins. He was finally gettting away from here. Well, not just him, but Dean as well. They were meant, either of them, for this kind of life. The nine-to-five kind of life just did not work for them. It was _boring_. And a kind of insult. He was meant for more, to do more, _be_ more. Just as Dean was.

He walks down the hallway to Dean's former office, footsteps halting as he approaches, hearing shouting inside. He pauses, waiting. He couldn't quite make out what was being shouted, or who was doing the shouted, but he figured it was smarter to step back from whatever it was and wait for it to be over. If it was anything _bad_ , he would know about it.

A minute passes, and finally the shouts subside.

And then the door opens inward.

He walks forward.

~*~ ~*~

Castiel disappears, leaving Dean standing there all alone. He shakes his head and heads over to the door, pausing for a moment, before opening it up. He turns to look to his left and his breath catches in his throat as he sees Sam walking his way. Sam...once nothing but long limbs and eternally lanky, had filled up quite a bit in the last little while. He looked nicely tanned from the sun (not the stupid orange jobs that you got when you artifically tanned) and Dean knew...from experience...that the tan was over his whole body, not just certain parts.

...from experience.

It was...wrong.

Very wrong.

He attempts to smile back as Sam smiles at him, while inside he felt disgusted with himself. He wondered what roller coaster of emotions that Sam was going through as well. He _had_ to feel disgusted with the situation. Dean knew he had to as well. And he did to an extent, but...

Yes, he was damned.

Because he had enjoyed it? Maybe. But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was...he wanted to have that again. Have that with Sam. _Be_ with Sam.

Yes...damned he was. He didn't think that screwing your brother was looked upon too lightly by...whatever was up there. God, Gods, Goddesses, either way, it was bad news. (And it was much easier to believe in the wrath of the Devil than it was to believe in God, a benevolent one at that. A vengeful God was a much easier pill to swallow for him, because he knew all too well how the world worked. It sucked.)

"Sam, I--"

"So! Ready to hit the road, Smith?" Sam said, grinning at him, all but bouncing with excitement.

"I think you can drop the Smith bit. I mean, after everything--"

"Ah," Sam said, interrupting. Was that...a _blush_ on his brother's face? "Yeah, about that..."

"Sam--"

"I don't make it my business to sleep around, Dean. And I've never slept with a man. But you are...I don't know...special. I..." He swallows. "I enjoyed it."

Dean shakes his head, heart thundering in his chest. "But, don't you see why we _can't_? I mean, for god's sake, Sam you're--"

"A man, I know. But that isn't enough reason to..." Sam stops, looking closer at Dean's face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

All Dean could do was stare at Sam.

_Sam still didn't remember!_

~*~ ~*~

A/N: Hee hee! The twist at the end! I hope it wasn't too expected! I wanted to make it a good surprise. I planned that twist almost from the beginning. Ooh...who knows what'll happen next! (Wait a minute, *I* do. XD)

I hope you all enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

\--PhoenixJustice

 


	3. Thy Prophecy of the Chuck, pt1

The ride inside of Dean's car-an Impala, strangely enough, which he didn't think would be the type the man would drive-was a quiet one. In the air there was the feelings of words unsaid. He remembered seeing Dean's face in the office before they took off; surprise, mingled with other emotions that he couldn't place. Maybe it was surprise at Sam's insistence that they go off together, maybe it was something else, he wasn't completely sure.

They hadn't technically known each other for all that long, but after being around the man, fighting with him, (as well as other things which made him fight a blush just thinking about) it felt as though he had known him his whole life. He felt comfortable around him and-it was exciting. All this newness. Not just the man, though that was a big part of it, but at being free from the shackles of a boring life which really _didn't_ fit either one of them; normal just didn't suit either of them and he was _so_ glad to be away from all that.

"So, uh...any idea just where the hell we're going?" he asks, finally breaking up the silence which was not quite an uncomfortable one. Dean glances at him briefly then away, as if afraid to look at him too long and shrugs.

"Uh yeah, going to stop by a friend's place." Dean says, hands still tightly gripped on the steering wheel. "I never thought about it before...all this...but he seemed to know his _stuff_ , uh...you know?"

Sam raises a brow. "Stuff? As in stuff like the ghost we dealt with?"

"Yeah, he always talked about stuff like that. I just always thought he was...eccentric."

"Name?"

"Bobby. Bobby Singer." He thanked powers that he didn't believe in that he was pulling this off so far; he just _couldn't_ say anything to Sam right now. For many reasons.

They pull up to Bobby's house and Dean quickly exits the car, waving at Sam with a hand as the taller man starts to get out of the car. "You stay put for a minute, alright? I've got to have a word with Bobby alone first."

Sam merely shrugs and looks intently at the array of things in Bobby's yard. Dean lets out a breath and heads up to the door, but he before he can even knock, it opens up. Bobby stood there and glances at Dean.

"Heard you pull up. Been a few days since I've heard from you boys, you been alright?" drawled Bobby. He looks over to where Sam leaned against Dean's car (a fact which Dean was trying _very_ hard to ignore right now.) "Hey-" Dean quickly grabs Bobby's shoulder before he can call out to Sam, which would confuse his brother as he didn't believe he knew Bobby.

"Can I talk to you inside for a minute? Alone?" Dean pressed. His stress or something else must have shown in his eyes for Bobby nods and moves aside, allowing Dean to head into the house. Dean turns towards the older Hunter as soon as the door closed.

"You're lookin' awfully serious, Dean. What is it? And that you can't talk about with Sam in the room?" Bobby caught on very quickly; he was an experienced Hunter after all and Dean didn't expect any less.

"It has to do with Sam. ...And me."

He quickly tells Bobby of the events of the past few days, omitting the "situation" between him and Sam, obviously; he didn't want to see the look on the man's face after learning something like that. The man had quickly become a father figure to both he and Sam; a mixture of father and friend and comrade. He didn't want to break that bond of trust between them...even if it meant lying to do so.

Bobby lets out a low whistle. "Well that's a new one. Have you heard anything from Zachariah since?"

Dean shakes his head. "Nah. And no word from Cass either."

"I don't get why _you_ got your memory back just fine and _Sam_ didn't." Bobby looked thoughtful.

"No damn clue," sighed Dean. He wasn't sure which would have been better; if Sam _did_ remember everything (which meant dealing with what happened between them) or if Sam kept on _not_ remembering (which meant dealing with what happened between them also, but a bit differently.)

"I'm not sure just what to say to Sam. Maybe...he's better off." They had both dealt with so many things in their lives, so if Sam didn't have to experience the pain of those memories then perhaps Dean could deal with not having the brother he knew.

A hesitant knock at the door stops whatever Bobby was about to say to him. The hunter walks over to the door and opens it up, glancing at Sam.

"Uh, hey. Just wanted to see if you two were done talking." Sam looked so hesitant and unsure that it made Dean want to kiss that expression away. He clenches his jaw and looks away, disgusted with himself for that train of thought.

"Yeah, yeah we're done," Dean mutters.

He glances up to see Bobby briefly glance at him before he turns to Sam, hand outstretched.

"I'm Bobby. It's nice to meet you, Sam."

Leaving Bobby to talk to Sam (who started to ask a few questions about different supernatural entities), Dean heads out back. He sets his head against the wall of the house, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up-he had barely started and already he felt physically and mentally exhausted. But really, what were the other options?

"Hello Dean."

His eyes snap open and he jerks back, knife in hand before he could even think.

It was Castiel.

He puts the knife back after glaring at the angel. "Damnit, Cass you've got to stop sneaking up on people like that!"

"My apologies," Castiel said, though he didn't actually sound all that apologetic about it. "I only wanted to check up on you two and see how things were going. I...know that you didn't ask for Zachariah to take away your memories like that." the unspoken words being about the situation with Sam.

"Yeah? Then why the hell didn't you stop him then?"

Castiel turns away. "I did not know of the situation until it was...too late. And even so, Zachariah is my superior-I could not interfere with his business."

"Could not? Or _would_ not?" Dean countered, his anger more directed at himself, but lashing out at the angel as a way to get his frustrations out.

"That is neither here nor there. Dean," Castiel says, turning back towards the Hunter. "I know that it is frustrating, and you are angry, but there are bigger things at stake here than your wounded pride. And," he adds, before Dean can get an word of response in. "I believe I have found a lead that you might want to look into."

He pulls a book out of one of his many pockets on his coat and hands it to Dean. The Hunter takes it from the angel a little skeptically, but looks at the cover all the same; "Supernatural" by Carver Edlund. He turns the book over and looks at the back cover; "Along a lonely california highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths."

He frowns.

...What the hell?

 


	4. Thy Prophecy of the Chuck, pt2

A/N: Kudos to anyone who gets the reference in their Agent names...

: :: :

Castiel had given him a lead; the book entitled "Supernatural" but also the location of a comic book shop. He wasn't sure just how he was going to explain it to Sam. Maybe he shouldn't even bother; after all, Sam didn't remember anything. He pretty much had a clean slate now, other than that ghost they faced. If he turned Sam away, maybe Sam would take up that normal life that eluded them for their entire lives.

Yeah, and maybe he'd grow wings out of his ass and learn to fly.

Sam was stubborn; they both were. But more than that, he didn't have the right to try and change his brother's mind like that. Perhaps that was why he had been feeling so bad ever since regaining his memories and Sam hadn't-he felt like he was trying to change so many things.

Because for all the bad they had been through, there not only had been good but the most important thing was that they had had each other. They had been through it all and had each other's backs every step of the way.

He felt at his wits end already, only a short time after starting back up Hunting. He had no answers. The only thing he could hope for at this point was to arrive at some kind of conclusion. Something. Anything.

Maybe then this longing for his brother would go away.

: :: :

He turns in his sleep, brows furrowing. Then he grins.

He dreams of Dean screaming like a little girl after being startled by a cat. But all of a sudden Dean's eyes turn into a startling shade of yellow and his body changes into that of an older man. The man seemed familiar to him. His heart pounds in fear.

"Sam, Sam." the man tsks. "Look at you! Look at what you have become! And I saw such _potential_ in you. Ah, it's too bad that brothers can't share dreams. What did yours call me again? "Yellow Eyed Bastard?" That hurts. Make sure to tell him that hell sends its regards." The man grins.

Sam wakes up with a gasp.

He turns and sees Dean sitting at the small table of their motel room, tapping away on the computer and looking intently at whatever was on it. They hadn't talked about what...happened between them since that time in Dean's office, but that was on the backburner of his thoughts for the moment. Right now all he could think of was that demonic face in his dream, with those yellow eyes.

And what did that thing mean? Brother? He didn't have any siblings. And...

"...hell sends its regards?" he mutters.

"Huh?" Dean says, glancing at Sam briefly.

"It's nothing." Sam says. Dean goes back to the laptop and as Sam gets up, he notices what looked like a book sitting close to Dean on the table. With the way he was keeping it close, he supposed it must be important to the other man.

It was just a dream.

Unless he got evidence to the contrary, that's all it was. There was no sense in making Dean worry over nothing. He...wanted to protect him. It felt rather strange, considering just how short a time they had known each other. But to him...protecting Dean, keeping him from harm, seeing him happy-that felt like the best thing of all to him.

He stands, stretching, and holds back a smirk as he notices Dean looking at him. It was kind of cute that he thought he wasn't obvious about it. Once he finishes, he walks over to the table. He looks down but can't tell what the book is.

"What's that?" he asks Dean, pointing to the book.

Dean looks up at him through hard to read eyes.

"A lead."

: :: :

"Uh...you sure about this?"

"Really sure. It's not hard, just think of it like...what is that in-person Dungeons and Dragons stuff people do?"

"LARP-ing?"

"Yeah. That. Just think of it like that."

: :: :

He straightens out his suit as they walk inside, bell on the door jangling as they enter the comic book shop. It wasn't that big, but it held wall to wall of some of the best comics that would make fanboys wet their pants with glee.

To their left was a long glass counter that held more things, with a stout man standing behind it, originally looking at a small television that sat on it until they come closer, causing him to look up at them. He squints slightly as he looks at them.

"Can I help you?"

"Hope so. Agents Laytner and Maclane," he pauses, both of them briefly showing an FBI badge. "We need to ask you a few questions."

"See anything...odd, the past few days?" asked Sam, glancing around a bit.

"Like?"

"Flickering lights? Odd noises? That sort of thing."

"Not that I can say...why?"

"You sure?" Sam presses. "Nothing behind the walls? Skittering in the walls, like rats?"

Dean wanders off while Sam keeps talking to the bewildered man, ("The FBI is investigating rats now?") flipping through a new Batman comic, a 9th Wonders!, before noticing a small table that held the things he had been looking for, what Castiel had _told_ him to look for.

"You two really FBI guys? Acting like a couple of LARP-ers to me. Asking me if the place is haunted like those two guys in those books. Steve and Dan I think they're called?"

"Sam and Dean?" said Dean, picking up one of the books on the table.

"Yeah! That's it! It was a series of books; didn't sell too well, to tell the truth, but it had-has-a following. They're at that table you're standing at, Mr. Laytner."

Sam walks over and looks over the books as well, looking at them curiously. Dean watches him carefully; if Sam looked inside those pages, he would find out the truth a lot quicker than Dean could tell him. He just _knew_ that the wheels were spinning in his brother's head at the man's statement. But at the same time...

"We'll take the rest of these books," Dean says. "And any other information you know about this stuff."

: :: :

"Too bad that's all the guy knew," said Sam, plopping onto one of the motel bed's, book in hand. He hadn't looked at it yet.

"Yeah, well we know the author's name so we can figure out where he lives." Dean clicks on a few things on the computer, eying his brother warily.

Sam lets out a huff, getting back up suddenly. He sets the book down on the table and moves into a chair by Dean. The close approximation of his brother was starting to make him feel warm, so Dean focuses, perhaps too intently, on the computer screen.

"It's pretty crazy," Dean mutters. "So much stuff. There's even "Sam girls" and "Dean girls". ...I'm sure I have more than you."

Sam snorts.

"And-wait, what's a "slash" fan?"

Sam's eyebrows raise. "They're talking about that? That's uh...you know, Dean-slash-Sam. As in...together."

Dean determinedly looks at the screen and not at Sam. That's part of how they got into this twisted mess to begin with... The crazy part was that these fangirls knew their relation to each other and...didn't appear to care all that much about it. Must be nice to be so free of moral obligations, since all they were doing was writing about them two. For him and Sam...they were the ones really living it.

"Got a problem." he says. Well, _another_ problem, but Sam didn't know that.

"Yeah?"

"I can't find anything on this 'Carver Edlund''."

"A pen name?"

"Looks like it."

"If that's the case..." Sam hesitates long enough that Dean looks away from the screen to look at him, and his breath is caught in his throat as Sam smiles.

"Then we'll just have to find someone who knows who he is."

: :: :

Getting into the publisher's house of the "Supernatural" series was not too hard; they knew the hard part would be coming up shortly. They meet a woman in her office; she wore a long sweater and had her hair done up in a professional looking bun that was rather severe for her young face.

"So you are, were, the publisher of the Supernatural series?" Sam asks.

"Yes, that's right. It was unfortunate that the sales were not as high as we hoped, but that happens alot in this business." she says, taking her seat back at her desk as they sit on the chairs across from her. "Now my secretary said you two were from Chicago, reporters."

"That's right, ma'am." Sam said, easily moving into the role they had created for themselves. It was something which Dean had expected no less of, before what had occured anyway. To see Sam so strong and able even without his memories backing him up...it was really amazing, actually. "We're also big fans of the series and asked to be able to publish a story on the series and its author."

The implied tone in Sam's voice seemed to register in the lady. She stares a little coldly at them.

"As nice as it is to see fans of the series, I must tell you that we do not give out the information of our authors whereabouts or anything else of the sort; if we did, then every sort of photographer and news media would be beating down there doors. If that's all, then I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

"But-"

"Now, if you wouldn't mind." She smiles, but her eyes remained just as glacier cold as they had been.

: :: :

"Well that was a bust," Sam sighs. "Sure we shouldn't try and press her harder?"

Dean shakes his head. He was actually glad that things didn't work out; he had been trying to figure out a good excuse to stay away from Sam learning more and thankfully he had in-God bless fangirls. "No, looks like a dead end. There's another route I'd like to try.." He looks at his brother in the face, eyes serious.

"Yeah?"

He nods. "Yeah. Listen Sam...there's something you need to know."

: :: :

Sam looks at him rather stunned.

"So you're saying that we've actually been traveling around together for awhile now?"

"Years."

"And we both grew up as these...Hunters?"

A nod.

"And you had forgotten about this, which was why you were the way you were when we worked in that office?"

Another nod. "Yup. As you can tell, I'm more of a leather jacket kind of guy than a suit. More suited to Black Sabbath than Yanni, or whatever lame-o group you can think of. I happen to _like_ my heart-attack inducing cheeseburgers over salads, thanks."

Sam looked pensive. "Yeah, I get that and that's great that you know yourself again. But if that's really the case, and it explains the dreams I've been having that have you in it...then why don't I remember this?"

Dean shrugs, looking a bit uncomfortable. He was sure that Sam would eventually bring back up the subject of them two...as in _together_. He didn't know how he'd handle that again. Especially, and this was what was bothering him the most, because he realized that he didn't feel as bad about the whole incident with Sam as much as he should. Sam was his _brother_.

He was learning truths about himself, ones he was afraid had been there for a very long time. Something which he couldn't run away from when the face of his Sin was staring him directly in the face.

Thankfully, Sam didn't press the issue he expected him to, instead getting straight back to the matter at hand.

"You said you had something else, another route, you'd like to try."

"I do."

Sam nods. "Hit me with it."

So he does.

: :: :

To say he was stunned was an understatement.

" _Angels_? I thought you were joking before-you're seriously telling me that they exist?"

"I know; didn't believe it at first either, but..." He unconsciously touches the place on his shoulder where Castiel had branded him, after he had "gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." "They're definitely real."

"And we know one of them?"

"Yeah. Well more than one if you want to be technical, but those guys are assholes. Cass is different from them. Now at least. Still looks like a holy tax accountant."

Sam's brows furrow. "A holy tax..." he shakes his head. "Alright, so how do we summon him then? Any special chant or something?"

"Nah. Not for Cass. Maybe other people have to but he likes us...I think. Sometimes it's hard to tell with him."

He closes his eyes. "Castiel...we need your help. We need some answers...so could you, uh...you know?" He waves a hand around.

It was silent.

He opens his eyes and finds Sam looking at him, holding back amusement.

"So, Angel huh?"

"Shut up," Dean says gruffly.

Sam lets out a snort of laughter, apparently unable to help himself. Dean sighs.

"Damn it all, Cass-!"

"Something you need?" Castiel's voice says suddenly.

Dean and Sam whip around to look at the sudden Angel in the room.

Sam's eyes widen.

"Man...you weren't kidding when you said he looked like a tax accountant."

: :: :

 


End file.
